Angels in Heaven

about? Is that how you see life, an eternal contest
between weak and strong, hunter and hunted, the fleet and the lame, the
predator and the victim? You disappoint me, Doris, you really do.”
    She grinned and hopped up a hopscotch
layout some kid had chalked on the cement path. I was so glad to see the twerp
happy for once that, what the hell, I hopped up it too. So did Benny, behind
me.
    The pizzas were surprisingly good at
Jeff’s, not so the vino, an overchilled, overfruity California burgundy type.
When we were replete and had decided when and where to meet the following
morning, Benny and Sara traipsed off to a disco recommended by Jeff that was
down near the dock, and V. Daniel wended—or is it wove?—his lonely way through
the balmy tropical evening to the Hotel Caribe, subtitled The Pearl of the
Caribbean, and lights out.
     
    The ferry chugged its way clear of
the end of the dock and shifted into high. It was crowded, but we all had
managed to find seats up on the second deck, near the stem, which is a politer
way of saying rear. Off on our left was a long line of assorted crafts in
assorted stages of disrepair, ranging from a slight list to visibly sinking
before our eyes. Big Jeff informed us they had all been confiscated by the
Mexican navy, with the help of the U.S. Coast Guard, for running contraband up
the Yucatán Channel. He also mentioned that the most luxurious of the sailing
craft so confiscated were kept sea-shape to be used by various government
officials on which to entertain their lady friends. I scoffed at the very idea.
    After disembarking at Puerto Juarez,
Jeff made a deal with a cabby he knew who was unloading some passengers for the
boat’s return trip. He hopped in front with the driver leaving Benny, me, and
Sara to squeeze in the back, and off we went. Both Sara and Benny were looking
a little worse for wear ‘ that a.m. , I was not unpleased to observe; served them right, dancing to all
hours. Maybe we could make a quick pit stop on the way for some tripe consommé.
Big Jeff was bright eyed and bushy tailed and as full of energy as a
five-year-old at bedtime. He was dressed that sunny morning in long khaki
shorts, a safari shirt, and a battered straw hat with one side curled all the
way up. Doris was in yet another new outfit, I was pained to see, although come
to ponder upon it, any price was worth the forking over that got her out of her
punk phase when, if she ever donned one article of clothing that didn’t have at
least one jagged hole in it, it was by mistake. I was trying to get used to a
new pair of prescription sunglasses I was wearing for only the second time, but
otherwise was feeling fit.
    Past the airport turnoff we went, and
into the teeming jungle we sped, south, ever southward. Some twenty minutes
later the cabby took a left and headed back in toward the coast and Puerto
Morelos. The once sleepy fishing village was undergoing a building boom at that
time, and probably still is, and probably always will be, so it did not present
a particularly attractive vista to the discerning eye, even if said eye hadn’t
been plagued with grit, cement flakes, and brick dust thrown up by all the construction.
    I thought we’d head directly to the
port area because that .j is where one generally finds boats parked, but no,
Jeff directed I the driver to the new and exclusive-looking Ceiba Hotel, which
was out a dirt road on the northern side of town, where we pulled up under the
welcoming shade of a canopy of palm fronds. Jeff hopped out, said he’d be right
back, and took off down a sandy path toward a thatched hut that had a large
sign in front of it: Diving Shop. He disappeared inside. All of us except the
driver got out to stretch and walk around a bit. Jeff returned a few minutes
later accompanied by a short, muscular Mexican in a skimpy yellow bathing suit;
when he drew closer, I noticed his legs were even more scarred than mine. Jeff
introduced him to us as Alfredo, and we shook hands all round. He said
something to Benny I didn’t catch, and Benny said something to him I didn’t
catch. Then Big Jeff said something to Alfredo that I didn’t catch either, but
Benny did because he said something to Alfredo again. Just to get into the act,
I then said something to Doris.
    Whatever it was all about it worked
because as soon as we were all back in the car Jeff said to me over one
shoulder, “He’ll meet us,” and then told the driver to head back into